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darling, I do

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Misty groans a little under the weight of the textbooks. When they clunk down on the aged wood of the desk, she isn’t surprised. Unlike her, the resident librarian gives a tiny gasp and places a hand over her apparently startled heart.

“Always making an entrance,” Cordelia comments, though does flash a smile Misty's way.

“Wouldn’t want you to miss me.” She responds with a grin, then pushes a smaller book to the side of the hefty pile. “An’ I wanna take that one out for the week.”

Cordelia peers upwards, her glasses dipping slightly.

That merely summons a smirk from the Cajun. “Please.” With playfulness swimming in her body, she adds in a drawl, “darlin’.”

All but jumping out of her seat, Cordelia’s eyes narrow. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh, sorry.” She begins, rather unapologetically. In all honesty, she wouldn’t with any other circumstance, but there’s something about the way that the woman reacts that encourages her so. Eyes rolling, mouth tight, and this slight blush just under her neck.

Cordelia continues in the lecture, readjusting her glasses. “It isn’t appropriate,” she says, “just because you are a mature student doesn’t meant that you can say things like that to the staff.”

“Only you.”

“Misty.”

“No special privileges,” she nods, “won’t happen again.” The books are gently inched forward, squeaking under their own weight. “Brought these back for you.”

“Well, this is a rare sight.” Cordelia reaches for them with a smirk at her own jibe.

“Hey, I always bring the books back.”

Brown eyes settle on her, sceptical and potent and they make Misty's stomach stir more than she cares to admit. The dopey smile that she wears upon observing Cordelia scan each book back into the system slips from her very lips, the moment she speaks.

“You have a late fee.”

Misty blinks and shakes her head. “Nuh uh!

The computer screen reflects in Cordelia’s lenses as she checks again, maybe just to humor her.

“Oh look, you still have a late fee – it’s, uh, three dollars and sixty cents.”

She's left dumbfounded, literally scratching at her head for a moment. “But it says the sixth on them. Today is the sixth!”

And there’s a moment here where Cordelia doesn’t do very much. She doesn’t rise to the challenge, nor does she look to the system to find the mistake. All she does is suck in a long, redesigned, (amused) breath.

Then, she speaks ever so dryly. “Misty, today is the ninth.”

“It’s the what now?”

She shakes her head, definitely grinning at her. “The ninth day of the month. Meaning, three days later than what you think it is.”

Rather than succumb to annoyance or embarrassment, Misty delves into a sheepish shrug and laughs. “Guess I should probably throw out that milk that says the second in my fridge then, huh?”

Cordelia’s eyes bulge wider.

Too late, for she is already squatting as she rifles through her messy bag right at the bottom. Here, there are scrunched up papers, old erasers, and empty wrappers. There is also a goldmine of spare change. Some of which is given to Cordelia.

“Thank you,” She says, “you are singlehandedly keeping this library going with your tardiness.” For a second, Misty sees the flash of a genuine smile, and that’s enough to have her heart fluttering.

Cordelia reaches for her newest choice, eyeing over the title. Just like she always does. “Ah, you’re onto the GMO stuff?”

She nods, leaning casually on the counter. “Feels weird, huh? Messing with plants’ genes.” Misty gives a moment to pause and spy Cordelia's reaction. “Almost like playin’ god.”

“Well, these things are bound to happen with technology.” She points out, always an opinion, always a thought; Misty wonders just how many of the books she’s perused through in this library. “I wouldn’t worry about it too much. Unless someone makes an island of carnivorous genetically modified plants and they somehow manage to escape.”

Her grin is from ear to ear, accompanied by giggles. And, for a just a second, she feels awfully flustered in front of this women. “Weirder things have happened. . .”

Cordelia hums, then opens the first page of the chosen book. “Is the sixteenth okay?” She asks, “or do I need to give you longer?”

They both know the answer to that. Misty nods either way and gathers the book. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“That’s next Thursday, okay?” She spells out, teasing,

Offering her most coy smirk yet, Misty crosses that line once more. “It’s a date.”

“Oh.” Cordelia almost drops the highlighter she’s grabbed in annoyance and sends a picking glare toward Misty. “For god’s sake.” She grumbles, not even bidding Misty a goodbye as she makes to leave.

Instead, she gets advice. “And throw that old food out, you’ll get sick.”

Yes, darlin’, Misty replies in her head, and she really wishes she could see the look on Cordelia’s face if she spoke it again.

...

Her head hurts, words all just a blob at this point. Nothing fixes it, makes it dwindle, and so this is where she decides to give up on studying.

She subtly takes a large swig of her coffee where Cordelia can’t see (normally she wouldn’t drink it ‘cause it makes her jittery but dreaded midterms are on the way) and she gathers her things. The open books at her desk are slammed shut, made into a pile. Misty shoves her pencil in her mouth and grabs said pile awkwardly with her free hand.

In somewhat of a rush to get home and do something noticeably less stressful, she makes to throw the books on the nearest shelf.

Until a throat clears behind her, and she spins on the spot to find Cordelia. With arms folded over her flowery dress, she speaks her mind with no hesitation. “You know, there is nothing more I love than restocking the books that all you guys put back in the wrong places.”

“Uh,” Misty begins speaking around the pencil, then makes to remove it in an uncomfortable set of angles. “Ain’t that like, your job?”

Oh, wrong answer. Cordelia pulls a face, this miffed tug of soft features, and she reaches forward to remove the books from Misty.

“Hey, I can put them back, if you. . .” She trails off; no way in hell is she going to remember which section they are all from.

“It’s my job, right?” Cordelia comments, a flurry that is heated and puffy hair, and screams stress. Come to think of it, the woman has been rushing around since Misty got to the library (not that she’s been watching her or anything).

If she feels guilty, there isn’t much chance to act on it. Thin heels begin a retreat, heard against the carpeted floor in a hurried beat, only stopping as she halts to pick up more abandoned books.

Misty frowns, languidly throwing her backpack over her shoulder. “Dammit.”

...

She doesn’t normally go to the library on Tuesdays. It’s one of her days off, and usually she has a shift at the music store. That still stands, but today she makes a quick detour.

As she walks into the library with purpose, she smiles at the sun streaming through the windows, at the sight of other students diligently working away.

And her smile widens when she hears Cordelia before eyes are lucky enough to spot her. “Shhh guys, keep it down please.”

The rowdy group might not look impressed, but Misty is the sight of besotted. Cordelia continues her work of restocking the printers, hoisting a fresh box of paper to replenish. She’s so focused in her work that she doesn’t spy Misty until the blonde stands far too close, too keen. And unashamedly so. “Hey.”

Cordelia frowns, titling her head in confusion. “Misty?” she halts in her actions, standing erect and unsure. “What are you doing here?” Then, perhaps feeling too much concern etching into her voice, she slips back to teasing, “did you forget what day it is again?”

“Nah,” Misty chuckles in turn, rolling on the balls of her feet. “I just, I – I was passin’ and you seemed a little annoyed yesterday, an’ I saw this. . .thought of you – so maybe, consider this a peace offerin’.”

The brown bag is held out, the brownie inside. It smells oh so delicious, and Misty knows it certainly is as she'd eaten her own on the way here.

Cordelia now flitters eyes between Misty and the bag with a certain level of paranoia.

“I ain’t poisoned it,” she rolls her eyes, “you are the only librarian who still lets me take out more than two books at once.”

Cordelia shakes her head, a fond smile there. “You only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Yeah,” Misty grins, “don’t think that’ll ever change. I don’t do so good with timings.”

The woman blinks at her, a set of musings atop her thin brow. She tries to hide it, but there’s some cloud of sobering over her expression. And gosh, it draws Misty right in like her body has been cast along the wave that is Cordelia.

Instead, Cordelia gingerly takes the bag and then scoffs upon peering inside. “You know you’re not allowed to bring food in this part of the library.”

She shrugs shamelessly. “I ain’t so good with the rules either.” Then, just as annoyance fizzles to something far more amicable, she adds. “Like I said, you seemed stressed. An’ Myrtle said you liked those so I – I – ”

You shouldn’t have done that, she waits for, and is instead gifted noticeably better, “you didn’t have to. . .that’s really kind of you.” She refuses to meet Misty’s eyes for a moment, a hand curling hair behind her ear in a slow manner. “Yesterday was a little crazy – we had a meeting about the stock and our manager was saying a about less funds for the library. . .and – I should not be telling you stuff like that.”

The mid sentence realization has Misty wanting to both smile and frown, so she goes for some unsure mix between both. “Yeah, well I hope ya feel better.” She catches sight of the time. “Crap, I need to go.”

“But you just got here. . .”

“I got work today,” she explains, “I just came by to – ” The brownie is gestured to, “Well, enjoy. I’ll see ya Friday.”

And she’s smiling as she leaves, a bounce in her step that is certainly too perky for this establishment.

“But you have books due tomorrow!”

At the sound of Cordelia’s voice, she halts and her smile exceeds the normal bounds of happiness. With a burst of it gushing through her veins, she turns and aims a look over her shoulder. “Fine, see you then, darlin’.”

What she mutters under her breath, Misty doesn’t hear. But she doesn’t care. Not one bit. ‘Cause Cordelia’s serene smile is all too endearing that day, and she’d like to think that she has something to do with it.

...

It’s quiet that evening, awfully so.

This is the way she likes it; on the late nights, there are the few regulars that seem to reside in this building. On a Monday night, it is usually her, working until her body physically refuses to do anymore.

But there’s good internet here, and textbooks that are totally free (if she remembers to bring them back on time). Oh, and there is one other benefit to her Monday night studies.

“So, how are you finding Delphine’s class?” Cordelia hovers nearby, stacking away some of the books while conveniently staying close to her table.

She tugs out her only earphone and spins her body in the woman’s direction. “It sure is somethin’. Think my brain is ready to explode any day now.”

“Yeah,” She laughs, “that’s the general consensus I get.”

Misty idly peers over her work, eyeing the messy scrawl of handwriting. Just as it appears their brief conversation is dying, she fans the flames once more. “You seem to know a lot about the classes.”

“You are not the only student to talk to me, Misty Day.”

The way she suddenly burns with jealous is totally embarrassing, and she inwardly berates herself for it. “I mean, you’re interested in the classes?”

“I’m interested in everything,” Cordelia smiles. “The handy thing about working as a librarian is that they let you read the books as well.” Then, with the hues of pink on her smooth skin, “plus I really like the book smell.”

“You do, huh?”

She nods, slowing her activities to give Misty her full attention. If Misty squints, she can see feet take the slightest movement forward, “yeah, I tell you, there is nothing better than opening a new book for the first time and the smell just hits you.”

Her description has Misty chuckling. “I get that. It’s fresh flowers for me – petals, ya know?

“Is that the only reason you’re doing plant sciences?” She cocks up a brow.

“Are you only a librarian so you can smell books?” Misty counters with her own look, more teasing than Cordelia had dared. She tries, each time, to erase that line between them more and more.

Cordelia may insist upon it, but what’s wrong with being attracted to her? It’s not weird, not at all. Maybe if she were younger, sure, but she’s pretty certain that there’s only a couple of years between them. Not to mention this undeniably chemistry that Cordelia tries to sweep under the proverbial rug.

Cordelia smiles, then makes to return to her work even if Misty wishes she’d stay and talk all night. As such, something totally dumb comes out of her mouth. “You want any help?”

Her eyes move to the books to help Cordelia understand, but even so there is a splutter of a reaction.

Then, she shakes her head and gives this nervous laugh. “I’ll manage, thanks. And you should really get on with your work – you aren’t going to learn about plant genetics talking to me all night.”

“Yeah but I’d have more fun,” Misty confesses easily.

Cordelia smiles again, a gentleness about her. “I think you’re seriously overestimating the fun there.”

“Think I’d always have fun with you.” She grins, all but winking

The woman studies her, a little flabbergasted. “Have you always been so shameless?” she teases.

“Only for pretty librarians.”

She readies herself for the retort back, for the knock down into reality where Cordelia redraws the line between them. For once, that doesn’t happen. The blonde has a moment of pause, eyes glistening in the low level lighting, then she offers Misty a genuine smile. “Well, I’ll count myself lucky.”

With that, she leaves Misty sat there stewing in her own surprise and, dare she say, hope.

...

“You can’t have that in here.”

Misty doesn’t glance up straight away as she’s reading a particularly interesting paragraph about newts. “It ain’t food,” she tells Cordelia.

“I – then what is it?”

“A jar of mud.” She deadpans, “and I sure as hell don’t plan on drinkin’ it ” Now, she does give Cordelia the attention she deserves and instantly regrets it; the reason being that her heart skips about twenty beats and she could be taken to the emergency room any second now under the assessment of lovesick.

Cordelia puckers her lips together, a shiny pink today, and eyes the jar again. She leans in closer, bringing with her this digging waft of strong perfume. “The other students are complaining,” she tells Misty. “They say it smells bad.”

“Well, yeah – it’s literally got gator shit in there.”

“And you brought it into my library?”

“No rules on that.”

She sighs out, like she does an awful lot at the minute. Not annoyed, not really, but her eyes relent on Misty.

Whose innocent smile widens the longer she does. Reclining, she gazes up at Cordelia the way the earth does to the sun, wearing just as much reverence; Cordelia’s radiance, however, would have any celestial body envious.

Misty takes advantage of the quiet. “Did I tell you how downright pretty you’re lookin’ today, darlin’?”

“I can ban you, you know.”

“Ah, you’d miss me too much,” Misty laughs, “then you’d have to get me to come back – it was be this whole embarrassin’ thing and we wouldn’t want that, huh?”

Cordelia huffs and puffs, but remains firmly planted on the spot. “You are impossible, I swear.”

It only encourages her and her thumping heart. “Guess I’d miss you a little, too,” She admits with a cheeky grin, “so in the spirit of neither of us missin’ one another, how ‘bout I put the jar in my backpack and we both forget about it?”

“It doesn’t come out again.” Cordelia insists.

“Nope, not even for a second.”

With a tight nod, they have a spoken truce, even if she knows Cordelia is most definitely being far too lenient. “What do you even have that for?” the woman probes, covering her nose as the exchange from table to bag is made, “oh Misty, it does not smell good at all.”

“It’s for class,” She shrugs.

“Dare I ask more?”

Misty laughs mischievously. “At your own risk.”

Said risk is not taken, and she again watches Cordelia retreat. The new twist to their routine is added when Cordelia pauses half way, turning to look at Misty over her shoulder. When she notices she’s still under her gaze, she quickly throws her attention ahead again.

Too late, as Misty now turns back to her reading with teeth tugging on her lower lip.

...

“I told you, I got the date extended.”

“It says here the – ”

Misty tries her best not to be rude, but her temper flares. “I know that’s what you said, but I’m tellin’ you that I got a couple days more, which means they’re not late.”

The ill tempered brunette has very little care in those beady pupils. In fact, the disinterest is actually kinda startling, but it gives Misty a bad feeling.

She watches as the keyboard is tapped away at. “It says here they’re late – I do what the computer says.”

Come on.”

“That six dollars and – ”

Misty is all but gaping at the woman in her frustration when her savior walks in from nowhere. She places a hand on the other librarian’s arm, coaxing her away. “Hey, I’ll take care of this. You can go get your lunch.”

There’s a quick exchange, an explanation of the situation that leaves Misty leaning on the counter with her head held in both her hands

As soon as the other woman disappears, she readies herself to plead her case with one impressive inhale.

“Cordelia – ”

“I’ve already cancelled the fee.” Her gaze doesn’t move from the screen, only to peer at what books Misty had been trying to take out. “Hm, baking. Experimenting, are we?”

Misty continues to let her mouth flounder in confusion.

“You cancelled it?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”

She’s overcome by a lot at once; a gratitude, a confusion, and this fuzzy little feeling that wraps around her chest. “I wasn’t lyin’,” she insists, “they weren’t late this time, I promise.”

“Misty.” Holy shit, she’s put her hand atop Misty’s, where hers is warm and soft, and a welcome weight. “I believe you, it’s fine. Just forget about it.”

She’s so overwhelmed that the confidence and teasing scurries away, and instead her body falls victim to some serious feelings. Misty peers over to Cordelia, down to her lips where yearning finds her. Maybe she’s in deeper than she thought.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

Cordelia slowly pushes the new books toward her. “Go enjoy your baking,” She grins, finally releasing her hand from Misty and, as such, releasing said woman from her spell.

“Uh, yeah – I will. If it turns out any good, I’ll bring some in for you.”

Now, normally Cordelia would retell her golden rule – no eating in the library, Misty - that she’s sure is from her own making. The delicate smile she earns instead takes a little more delving to enjoy. Thankfully, she’s ready to dive in head first.

“That’d be nice,” Cordelia nods, biting at her lip.

She doesn’t move slender fingers from near the worn spines, so as Misty grabs them hands graze again.

And Cordelia may as well be charged with a thousand volts for the sheer reaction she feels.

...

Misty scans row after row, deciding that her untrained eyes are never going to be any good at this. As such, she seeks out better help, searching for one librarian in particular.

Only, she doesn’t quite greet her straight away.

The sight she stumbles upon is the woman stood on the very tiptoes of her pumps, one hand clutching the bookcase and the other reaching impossibly high above. Tiny grunts of exertion push past her lips (enough to drive Misty crazy) as she attempts to reshelf the book.

Her determination is such that she soon hops up on the first shelf in those rickety heels. A daring question, Misty thinks, that soon proves too precarious as the stumbles backwards from a loss of balance. Arms swinging around, lips pushing out a yelp, Cordelia for once seems anything but gracious, but Misty doesn’t care. It's actually nice to see some fluster in the woman. Either way, she had rushed forward the second she’d sensed a moment of danger and catches Cordelia with ease in her arms.

“Gotcha.” She laughs, arms just under her ribs and helping her back to stability on her feet.

“Oh, Misty.” Cordelia’s face is redder than she ever remembers it being. “I – thank you, I must admit that was rather embarrassing.”

“Least you didn’t fall flat on your face,” She shrugs. “That would’ve been worse, right?”

Cordelia nods, neck slowly tilting down. It’s then that they both seem to notice their proximity, how they linger without reason toward one another. Misty clears her throat, slowly retracting her hands from where they’d descended naturally onto Cordelia’s hips – it hadn’t been helped by the fact that a certain blonde’s hands seemed to have guided without prompting and now sit atop them. “I – er. . .

“Sorry.” Cordelia chuckles at her own silly actions. “That was. . .”

To push free from the awkwardness, she reaches for the textbook now lay abandoned on the ground. “Here,” She offers, “I'll get that for you, darlin’.”

She does, returning it to the high shelf that Cordelia couldn’t quite manage. Eyes are on her the entire time, the heat of scrutiny, but one that Misty basks under. From Cordelia, she’ll always enjoy it.

As she turns back, wearing a timid and hopeful smile, she finds musing in the woman.

“Why do you call me that?” She asks in a whisper. One ‘cause well, it’s a library, and two, ‘cause the words feel secret.

Just as her answer does. “It suits you.” Then, the doubt fights and claws its way through. “I can stop, if you want. I’ve only been teasin’ you. . .”

“No, it’s – it's fine.”

Misty’s smiles grows optimistically bigger. “Good.”

“Good,” Cordelia agrees, almost a little breathless.

And, after a second of just admiring how pleasantly flushed Cordelia is, Misty finally remembers the reason for seeking her out. “Hey, can ya help me find these books?”

“Oh, right. Of course I can. Just give me a minute.”

Misty sighs softly. “Anything, darlin’.”

...

Guys, come on, this is a library – not the school yard!

The sound of her voice works a switch inside of Misty, bringing spring where there was winter, a spark of joy.

She lifts her gaze, meeting eyes with Cordelia across the room.

Said spark sits there, too. Merely in just one look. A few seconds that seen like a lifetime.

She stays longer than she normally would that night, hanging on every and any interaction that the two may come across.

...

As she makes her way over to the counter, Cordelia is hunched over the small desk plant not too far away from the moving fan. She doesn’t notice Misty at first as she is too interested with inspecting the leaves.

When she’s ignored for long enough, the Cajun speaks up. “Uh, Cordelia?”

She springs up. “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

Misty begins the process of finding books from her admittedly unorganised bag. “What’s wrong with your plant?”

“Fungus.”

“Ah.”

“Only on a couple of the roots, but not ideal is it?”

Misty shakes her head. “Try usin’ a mix of bakin’ soda an’ soap. . .you can use rubbin’ alcohol, too.”

There’s a hum of appreciation, a soft smile as she writes down the suggestions, “thanks, guess it’s handy having a plant expert around.”

“I wouldn’t call myself an expert,” She takes on a growing shyness at the compliment.

“Well.” Cordelia begins in playfulness as she starts to scan the returned items, “let’s hope that you’re better with plants than you are at returning books because – oh.”

Misty panics. “Oh?”

While she’s all but ready for some terrible news, it is Cordelia that is downright befuddled.

“You’re handing them in two days early?”

Running a hand through her curly hair, Misty makes eye contact; she both loves and hates how her body sings at the simple connection. “Yeah, well – you musta trained me well.”

Cordelia pushes the books aside. “Very funny.”

“Plus, the fines were startin’ to get expensive.”

“Oh, I can imagine. I think you are the worst one here for late fees.”

She blinks. “Really?”

“Yup.” And Cordelia wears her own smugness, a little quirk of her lips that has Misty leaning in. “Sometimes I think you do it on purpose.”

She places her elbows on the counter, weight pushed forward on it, and smirks. “You do?”

Cordelia, in turn, reciprocates that movement and mirrors with her own. “Yes, to do nothing other than annoy me.”

“Ah, you got me. Worth it for the look on your face.” She confesses, maybe devoid of any real joking.

Eyes shining and cheeks bright, and the air around her buzzing with something akin to excitement, Cordelia further closes the gap between them. “What look?” She teases, fingers just happening to move and brush against Misty’s.

The Cajun giggles. “You kinda look all hot and bothered. . .”

Here, mere inches apart, she is full witness to the incredulity in her response, ears primed to hear the way she hisses her voice out. If anything, it makes her laugh even further.

But their movement is ruined, closeness pried about with the crowbar that is an impatient line of other students that want to check out books.

The two fly apart, flattening hair and subconsciously keeping their hands busy, and Misty tries to ignore the heat on her own skin.

...

“What are those?” Misty eyes the mysterious equipment with distrust, going as far as stepping away from it.

Cordelia rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s a new system. So you can check in and out your own books.”

“But that’s your job!” She exclaims, utterly aghast.

“I do other things than check how much your late fee is, Misty.” The woman points out, half smiling as she reads through the book in her hands, “it actually saves a lot of time, you know.”

But – but. . .

She tries not to panic at the idea of their interactions being cut in half – sadly, she falls and her heart spasms painfully in her chest.

As if able to see the anguish, Cordelia drops the book and saunters over to her own computer where she gestures for Misty to come over. “Look, you can still check out here if you want.”

Misty nods keenly. “I don’t do new technology.”

“No,” Cordelia agrees with airy laughter, “I did think you’d hate it when it was installed the other day – can I have your book?”

The idea of Cordelia considering her is this affirming little feeling that Misty clings onto. Slowly, she hands over the book and watches the surprise run across the librarian’s face.

“Well, who knew you were into romance, Misty Day?”

Don’t blush, don’t blush. Only, she totally does. “Well, something different, ain’t it?’

“You sick of reading about plants?” Cordelia perches herself on the counter again, tilting forward. Just like they had done the other week, where they’d drifted far too close for mere coincidence, and they’d both stared at one another’s lips.

Misty almost moves to do the same, but then she’s clutching said romance novel to her chest and wishing her burning cheeks would relent. “I just saw it and thought. . .”

Her embarrassment is brushed away with chuckles. “It’s a good one. One of my favorites,” Cordelia offers, “if you need any more suggestions, then feel free to ask me.” Her smile is coy, coquettish, and Misty just about dies on the spot.

...

Outside, the wind crashes and rattles against the window, and with it brings its friend of horrid rain.

Misty stares miserably at it, staying for longer and longer in hopes that it will break just enough for her to safely make it home. Sure, she loves the rain, but not getting stuck outside in it. And certainly not with the idea of it drenching any library books; if she ruins another one, Cordelia is going to kill her.

She lets out a drawn breath as the rain seemingly only get worse. It forces her into a terrible decision on that dim night beneath the flickering of the library.

Just as she’s picking up her backpack, she hears footsteps behind her on the creaking floor. “Please tell me you’ve got a car,” comes Cordelia's voice, “or at least a ride to pick you up.”

Misty gives a sheepish smile and shrugs, “only two legs and the ability to run.”

That doesn’t go down well with the woman, who is already pushing her back into the seat. “You’re not going out in that. It’s torrential!”

“But – ”

Cordelia bats away any arguments with sure words. “Just wait here ‘til we close in fifteen minutes. I’ll drive you home.”

She glances up ever so gratefully, “you sure?”

“Of course. I can’t bare the thought of you walking home in the rain.” Cordelia glances around at the practically empty room, “so just. . .wait, okay? I won’t be long.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

In her hand, she has a stack of paperwork, and Misty’s head is already pulsing from her work, but she’d happily help Cordelia with anything.

“Just wait.” The woman grins, and a few moments later comes back with a coffee.

To which Misty raises her eyebrows. “Thought you didn’t like people drinkin’ in here?”

“Yeah, well – I seem to make an awful lot of exceptions for you.” She jokes, confesses, and walks away.

The wait is filled with music, with the attempt on work, and then finally bouncing her legs up and down as she considers the idea of being confined to a car with Cordelia. Just her and Cordelia, alone. A small space. Oh god.

She bites at the inside of her cheek, humming along in hopes of distraction, and then the lights of the room slowly start vanishing.

The only ones that suddenly remain are those over the counter, where Misty goes to stand. “Hm,” she begins, “kinda creepy, huh?”

“You get used to it.”

Cordelia suddenly looks down to the book in Misty’s fingers, “did you wanna check that out?”

“No, I’m done readin’. Was gonna put it away but then you made it all dark.” Her joke falls on unwilling ears, and she suddenly remembers just how anal the woman is about her precious library, “do you want me to put it back?”

Cordelia is already rolling her eyes, setting off into the long stretches of shelves without bothering to turn the lights back on. As if imprinted on the back of her hand, she moves through the maze with purpose, speed, and Misty finds herself following like a lost puppy.

Only the light of the streetlamps outside give them any sight, forcing their pupils into wide saucers. She sees Cordelia’s in her own impaired sight, as beautiful as she could ever imagine.

She finds those words suddenly sitting on her lips here in the darkness. “Cordelia.” Misty whispers, drowned by the rain.

Cordelia, full of super senses apparently, hears. “Yes?’

It is breathed out, maybe staring just as much trepidation as the Cajun has found caught in her own throat. ‘Cause perhaps it hasn’t gone amiss to either that they are alone for the first time ever, that hearts beat and race maybe in one combined goal.

Misty chickens out for a second, peering down at the book. “Did you want me to put that back?” She questions, pointing to where she’d found it.

It leaves Cordelia little choice but to agree upon seeing the higher shelf. Strangely, she doesn’t really move out of the way, forcing Misty to practically brush up against her as she does such a task. Doing so is too much, building a tension that seems all too impossible.

Then, she can see how Cordelia is smirking over at her, rolling her eyes.

“What?” She demands to know.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re not going to kiss me!”

Misty gapes on the spot, lost for words.

Thankfully, Cordelia isn’t finished. “You really are all talk, aren’t you? Do you know how frustrating you are? Coming in here every other day with your late books and things you can’t find, and paper jams on the printer – anything to get me near you and now you won’t even – ”

Misty cuts off the rant with lips hurriedly pressed against Cordelia’s, so forceful in that movement that the woman ends up pressed between her and the bookcase. Words die within their joined mouths, where instead mewls and groans begin to take life.

Placing one hand on Cordelia’s hip, she plants fingers tightly in place and uses the other to cup just under her angular jaw. The way she kisses back is dizzying, affirming; Misty's relaxes so much that it’s a miracle she’s still standing, and yet it feels like every muscle could jump in celebration. Cordelia’s kisses are soft, slow then fast, fevered and yet tender. As she leans in further, lips migrating where they so wish, she can smell Cordelia’s perfume, her natural sweetness, and the final smell is a unique one that has Misty grinning against the woman’s neck.

Books; she smells like fresh books. And maybe this is where Misty suddenly gets her own appreciation of such a scent.

Chapter Text

Misty wears this wide smile before she even crosses the threshold of the library, and it grows delightfully as she does. Even more so when Cordelia is suddenly in her sights.

All but skipping forward, she leans herself against the nearest bookcase and admires the pretty woman restocking the stationary. “Well, hi there.”

Cordelia jumps at first, but eases back into her work. Even so, half an eye is gifted toward Misty. “Hello,” she smirks, tucking some already neat hair further back.

She isn’t expecting quite such a curt greeting. Either way, she accepts the challenge to loosen Cordelia up with her own conversation, just as she’d done the same to her body last night as they’d kissed until she’d felt dizzy.

“Good day?” she poses the question.

“Not too bad.”

Her smiles widens, the very tip of her tongue just managing to poke through her teeth. “Well, I hate to ruin it, but I got some pretty sad news for ya.”

Cordelia suddenly stands erect, giving this genuine concern that Misty tries with all her might not to laugh at. “Now I know there is this connection between us Cordelia, and I don’t want you to get upset.”

“Upset?” she grows this almighty frown, forehead wrinkling.

“Yes,” Misty begins in great regret as a guise to her amusement, “I hate to tell you this, but I did, in fact, make out with a girl last night. Here. In your territory, of all places.” As soon as it falls into place for Cordelia, she makes an (adorably) infuriated little noise and continues her work. “Now I know considerin’ our history – ”

“You are ridiculous, Misty.”

“Hey, are you not upset?”

Cordelia drops a couple of books onto the nearby table and narrows her eyes. “No, because as we both know I was the girl you kissed.”

“Oh, are you sure?”

Those dark eyes smolder with a wonderful mix of irritation and, yes that’s right, definitely arousal. Unmistakable; Misty has seen this before. “Quite certain.”

“Hm, I dunno – this girl was real into me, demandin’ to be kissed – ”

Cordelia spins on the spot and shares her outrage with a scoff. “I wasn’t demanding anything. It was taking you too long to pluck up the courage. Not what I was expecting from a shameless flirt.”

The pointed words have her slightly taken aback, though still smirking. She leans nearer, somehow wedging herself between the Cordelia and the ever so important work she has to do.

In itself, that is enough to vex her more and boy, does Misty like the way her lips move when she’s annoyed. “A shameless flirt? What makes you say that, darlin’?”

“Point and example.” Cordelia deadpans.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

The woman stops in all her movements, flashing eyes that little bit wider. “You mean,” she’s already laughing and shaking her head, “you could be worse?”

Misty tilts in nearer, so their lips, noses, foreheads, all of them find a proximity close to what they’d share last night. It brings with it that flutter of emotions once more, such thrill that Misty enjoys. “Much, much worse.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

She grins, biting at her lip and then, rather obviously, staring at Cordelia’s. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, then. . .maybe I accept.”

Cordelia stares at her, and here she adds her own little dip of eyes toward lips. “Hm, good.”

And, just for a moment, they stand and soak in the tension that they’ve created, letting their very pores drink it in.

Sighing out adoringly, Misty smirks, waggles her eyebrows at Cordelia and laughs. “Well, I gotta go, but this has been nice.”

“Misty – ”

She is cut off with the quickest of pecks go her lips, so fast that Misty contemplates diving back in. But this is Cordelia's workplace, she can’t be too obvious, and maybe it’s left Cordelia wanting.

Sweeping from out of her touch, she hoists her bag higher on her shoulder and flashes the prettiest of smiles. “I’ll see you later, my darling.”

This time, Cordelia has no response to her. Perhaps she’s been stunned in to silence. Maybe there are too many thoughts for her to pinpoint just one.

All Misty is aware of is that she feels a piercing set of eyes on her entire retreat. She turns, and there is no shyness in Cordelia. No timid tilt of the head, no rush to look away – she relents, a strong force that Misty has to restrain herself from gravitating towards.

She does, however, let her own eyes sparkle with humor, before a kiss is blown in Cordelia’s direction.

She gets an eye roll back.

Oh, she’s not having that. Determined, eyes setting into stone, she mouths across the library, “you gotta catch it.”

“What?” Cordelia asks back in confusion, very much breaking her own quiet rule.

The kiss,” Misty mouth, using gestures to embellish her words, “you need to catch it.”

This time, Cordelia understands, and offers a an even bigger eye roll. But she’s smiling and Misty takes that as a good sign. So, she blows another kiss that surely flitters across the room, and waits with a teetering smile.

Until the begrudging Cordelia sighs and pretends to catch it in her palm. Misty grins. Upon seeing that, Cordelia too softens and makes a point of obviously placing that kiss in her pocket.

To say Misty wears the goofiest smile all day certainly is an understatement.

She doesn’t really know what they are.

Sometimes you’ve just made out with someone and that’s it, nothing official, nothing certain – except the totally certain part of her that knows her feelings root deeper than not so subtle flirting and glances from across the room.

She saunters into the library that day, heading straight for the front desk. Cordelia has already clocked her, rising to her feet.

“You’re late.”

“Ah, I slept through my alarm.”

Cordelia makes a noise, amused if anything, and moves to reach under the desk. The movements hold Misty enrapt, watching the flow of her hair, each ripple of flesh. When Cordelia stands and plants a heavy book before them, she has to remember just how to breathe.

“This came in today,” she announces proudly, running a finger over the smooth cover that is untouched by the hands of other students.

Across the counter, Misty blinks and unwillingly moves attention from the blonde down to the book.

She’s glad she does, ‘cause her eyes widen and hands giddily reach out. “Oh my gosh – you got it! Thought you said that it was too much for the library to get?” It’s not exactly the first time she’s asked for a certain book to be stocked, and usually she gets an apologetic smile from Cordelia. And well damn, college textbooks are expensive.

“Well,” Cordelia holds her lower lip ransom between white teeth. That, in itself, is enough to have Misty feeling the quickening in her heart rate, “I pulled some strings.”

In an exchange of the confidence, it is Cordelia smirking now.

“For me?”

Cordelia leans elbows on the counter, looking ever so smug. “Maybe.”

Gingerly, she picks up the weighty book and cuddles it to the chest. A certain wave of appreciate washes over her, leaving the woman inundated. She smiles. “Thank you.”

“You owe me.” Cordelia’s smile flashes wider.

And thus, the teasing returns with vengeance. “How exactly would you like me to repay you?”

“You’re the one with all the ideas.”

Her jaw falls lower, stumped for words momentarily.

Cordelia’s smirk grows, maybe having won some internal bet. “Or not, apparently.”

“Hey,” Misty growls playfully. “I got plenty of ideas.”

“Why don’t you show some of them to me?”

Heat sits delicately in every crevice of her body, and she certainly never wants to give it up. “I don’t wanna spoil you too quickly.”

Cordelia scoffs.

“You are all just show, Misty.”

Oh, oh. The goading sends that warmth into a prickling bonfire, one that has her insides blackened with determination. She sets her jaw, darkens her eyes, and swears to prove that ridiculous statement wrong.

The first step, perhaps the cheesiest, involves something that she’s got a rather easy access to. But the flowers are pretty and offer a delightfully decadent scent, and Misty made the bouquet so big that she can barely see where she’s going.

She places them down to the nearest surface, frowning when Cordelia isn’t immediately spotted. To busy herself, she hums asking to the music blaring from her earphones and flicks through the book she’s returning. Any missed sticky notes are pulled out, somehow a pen slipping from between the pages too.

Just as she’s bending down from the carpeted floor to retrieve it, she spies black heels in her peripherals, eyes migrating upwards past a pencil skirt, a pink blouse, and an awfully pretty lady.

One of the earphones is yanked out while the other buzzes away. “Oh, hey.”

Cordelia gently pries the pages from her hands, where chipped nail polish sits prominently. The book is appraised, her forehead creasing closer together with every passing second. “I thought I told you to stop folding the corners of the pages?”

“I, um, bad habit.” She grins sheepishly, running fingers through her knotted locks.

Cordelia might be sighing and not so silently judging her treatment of the books, but it barely takes her a few seconds to spy the size of the bouquet stood directly behind Misty. In fact, in the counter, its height supersedes that of the Cajun’s and it stands ever so tall.

Twisting, Misty grins at it too. “Got ya a present. As a thanks for the book.”

She’s quiet again, opened mouthed and taking in such a sight. “Were there any flowers left in the store?”

“Hey, you challenged me to woo you.”

“Oh.” She begins, soft. Coy, with giggling that sit angelically in the room. “You’re wooing me now?”

“Well, I’ve been tryin’ to this whole time. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

By this point, Cordelia has stepped forward and brushes fingers over the soft petals of baby’s breath. “The are very pretty, Misty.”

“Just like you,” she gives a dopey smile.

Cordelia doesn’t fight her chuckles now. “Walked right into that one, didn’t I?”

“Yup.”

She allows herself to blush, to let Misty see the vulnerability within, and then in a flash it’s hidden behind a coquettish smile. “You wanna impress me?” Cordelia whispers out, voice this wonderful vibration that reverberates in Misty’s bones and arouses her soul. The Cajun nods like an eager puppy, eyes only for the woman that she is magnetically drawn to. “Then stop ruining my books and return them on time.”

Her grin comes with ease, eyes crinkled at the corners where laugh lines follow. “I’ll try my best.”

“That doesn’t fill me with confidence. . .”

Misty flashes her a smile. “Well, I best go get to studyin’.”

“No, you’re going to pay the late fee on this book.” She begins pointedly, slowly padding behind the counter and logging into the computer.

“How do you know it’s late?”

Cordelia gives her a look.

“Just so I know for future reference, do the flowers make you any less mad about the lateness or the notes in the book?”

She realizes her mistake as Cordelia literally gasps and begins rifling through one page after another. “You wrote in the book?”

Misty pushes the flowers closer in a gingerly manner and laughs away her nerves. “I didn’t say that – but uh, you enjoy these and I’m gonna. . .” She points toward one of the tables.

All the while, Cordelia is still scrambling to find out exactly where any scribblings have been made on one of her precious books.

She’s stressed, so, so stressed. That stressed that if you wrung her out you’d have a whole bucketful of stress and then some.

The screen stings her eyes, no matter how much she blinks, and her head aches in spite of the water she’s been forcing herself to drink to avoid just this problem. Sadly, the water has betrayed her and merely offered a painfully full bladder instead.

Her bouncing legs don’t calm it and eventually she has to rush to the bathroom.

It’s on the way back when a (far more relieved) Misty almost barrels straight into Cordelia. They both produce equally surprised gasps, hands reaching up to hover around one another respectively. In the bustle, Cordelia’s glasses fall from the perch on her nose and make a rather ungraceful clatter to the floor.

Bending down instantly, Misty reaches for them. “Sorry,” She smiles, and outstretches the spectacles just as eagerly.

“Oh, it’s fine, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Me either.”

She eyes her laptop in the corner, still there, still waiting, and holds in a groan. Why does she have three assignments all due in the next week? What wicked ventures did she undertake in a past life to deserve this?

“I’ll try to pay attention next time,” Misty promises, making to leave with word counts and references on the brain.

That simple statement has Cordelia on the wrong side of confused, eyes inching wider and face losing the pink undertones of its pretty hue. To put it simply, she stares at Misty like she’s got four heads, growing more bewildered by the second.

Misty knows this ‘cause she can’t resist turning to peek back at the woman.

She comes to a halt so fast that her boots skid against the carpet. “What?”

Cordelia, to her credit, appears slightly less surprised than seconds ago, and resets with a light shake of her head. “No comments? No flirting? No darling?”

A smirk eases onto Misty’s, and she forms a position neatly into the nearby table by leaning in it. “Oh, so now you like it?”

“I – ”

“S’okay, you can admit it out loud, Cordelia. I already know you have the hots for me.”

She looks simultaneously pleased and pissed, and somehow that totally turns Misty on. She keeps a reign on those prominent feelings and lifts her brows enticingly.

Cordelia looks enticed, even if she doesn’t admit it.

“Go on, you can do it.”

The silence is all too much.

“Isn’t like we ain’t already kissed.” She grins. “And then you took me home an’ you said – ”

“Misty.”

The woman continues regardless, “you said that I was a good kisser.”

Long, drawn quiet moulds into a coy, “I might have said that.”

“That maybe we could do it again. . .”

Her name is repeated once more, this time through the bubbles of laughter. “An’ you totally wanted to do more than kiss.”

“I did not say that!”

Misty smirks, “your eyes did, darlin’. But don’t worry, I know you’re a lady. So, you wanna be wined and dined, rather than touched up against a bookcase.”

At the very mention of their rather close encounter not more than a week ago, Cordelia displays a number of reactions, then settles into this knowing smile. “Does your time schedule allow for wining and dining?” Here, she’s signalling to the nest of papers and books and stationary that Misty has worked so hard on creating in the past few hours.

“For you, I can make an exception.”

Laughing airily, Cordelia shakes her head. “Don’t let me interfere with your education, Misty.”

“But I – ”

She is awfully glad that Cordelia cuts across and stops her words. “We can do something when you’ve handed them in. You said they’re due this week, right.”

“Y – yeah.”

Cordelia’s smile widens into this transfixing affair where Misty can only hold her heart in her mouth and wonder if she can remember how breathing works. “Well, next week then?”

The words settle in.

“You’re asking me on a date?”

“What?” Cordelia raises her brow in daring. “You don’t want to?”

The confidence rises to match Misty's normal amount, as though having stolen it from the Cajun herself and harnessing it for her own deeds; those being drawing a delighted smile in Misty. “’Course I want to – I just. . .ain’t I supposed to be doin’ the wooing?’

There she goes again, rolling her eyes, “I’m giving you a break from it, you look busy.”

With a sheepish glance to her work, Misty nods and chuckles. “Might be in for a long night.”

Then, there’s the brush of fingers against her, a comforting squeeze. “You’ll be fine. If you’re here until close, I can give you a ride home again.” The final cincher is when her smile grows impossibly wider. “Stay there, I’ll make you some coffee, sweetie.”

Sweetie.

Misty goes rather googly eyed and all but melts on the spot.

Leaning in closer, Cordelia whispers. “I know it’s against my own library rules but. . .”

“Think we’ve already established I am a librarian’s nightmare.” Her laugh echoes between the two, suddenly close, women.

More pressure finds her arm, so wonderful, so electrifying, and she knows in an instant that there is going to be no focusing on any of her work that evening.

Especially when Cordelia returns with the coffee and calls her sweetie again. Yup, she is not going to get a single thing done.

She does, however, take the wooing power back under her control. Prior to their date, she beings a daily offering of flowers and baked goods that she’s haphazardly made with the intentions of impressing.

They might not look the best, but boy do they taste good. And Cordelia smiles (and sighs) every time more gifts appear on her counter.

“Misty, you don’t have to get me so many things.”

“Gotta treat you, haven’t I, darlin’?”

Cordelia laughs at over at her. “Looks like I don’t have a choice.”

A little scoff is offered. “You always get a choice.”

“Well,” Cordelia says, moving closer as she hugs the pile of books to her chest. “Guess I don’t mind bring treated.” She bows her head shyly and plays with the ends of her hair.

“Ah, good, ‘cause I got somethin’ else for ya.”

Her eyes, all round and doe like, questioning with this giddy excitement. Despite saying she doesn’t want said gifts, Cordelia seems awfully entranced by the idea of another.

Misty cups and closes her hands together atop the counter in an alluring manner, close to Cordelia, but far enough away that she is drawn closer. “Hm, know what it is yet?”

“Your hands are closed,” Cordelia scoffs. “How am I supposed to know?”

“Come closer.”

The order is followed after a few seconds, where Cordelia mulls over what it could possibly be and teeters over the counter with a amused eye roll.

Misty grins, fluttering her eyelashes that little more. “Closer.”

They both move in unison, drawn as though magnets that can’t resist the lure of opposite poles.

“Closer.”

And Cordelia does, eyes holding far more intensity up close, as though the earthy brown is magnified in all its beauty. Eyes lock for just a moment, breath crosses the small distance to land on Misty’s lips.

Then, the promise of something within Misty’s hands proves too much to resist; Cordelia’s gaze dips downwards.

It’s the perfect moment for Misty to offer her true gift. A kiss, planted quickly and sneakily upon her mouth for just a few seconds; not nearly long enough, but seconds worth savoring – time worth revering. “Misty!” Cordelia pulls back the moment that she realizes just what has transgressed, a hand wiping over her lips in this way that Misty staring.

The Cajun grins, “sorry.” She isn’t

“I’m at work.”

“Couldn’t help myself.” Misty bites at her lip.

She earns a warning glance, and the embarrassed Cordelia has already begun busying herself with other tasks.

A pile of paper is slammed to the side of the computer keyboard, then narrowed eyes follow. “Don’t do that again.”

“I can never kiss you again?” She asks, most certainly teasing, with sparkling eyes that reflect back in Cordelia’s glasses.

“I – not at work.”

“Duly noted.”

They fall into a comfortable lull.

“But, just to clarify, I can kiss you?”

Cordelia halts.

“Darlin’?”

“Have you always been so. . .forward?” She asks in all seriousness.

Misty merely grins. “I can’t wait for our date, Delia. I’ll count down the days ‘til I can kiss you again.”

“Who says I’m going to let you kiss me?”

She really, really hopes that Cordelia does.

“Wait, wait, no you did not!”

Cordelia throws her head back as she laughs, a heart affair that hints to Misty this night is going well. Just as well as she’s hoped.

Across from her, the woman giggles into her heads. “I did. I had to climb out of the window!”

“I can’t believe that you ran away ‘fore he woke up.”

“Well, mistakes were made.”

She watches Cordelia sip at her wine, elegant as always, and sighs out her content. “I’ve gotta say, if I woke up and saw you tryna escape outta my window, think I’d be awful disappointed.”

“I – ” Cordelia stalls, and suddenly her eyes are burning. “Well, for one, he didn’t catch me and two, you think I’d do that to you?”

Misty blinks, then softens into her smile. The bar around them is quiet for a late Tuesday evening, with the nearby buzz of conversations and friendships around them. Their words hold the air of something else, a wonderful tension that she hopes Cordelia can feel, too. “Only one way to find out, darlin’.” She winks, her already high flirting helped by the whiskey that she has been nursing.

Then, Cordelia blushes and smirks, and shakes her head as though feeling real silly at the same time. “I like that more than I should, you know.”

Misty raises her brows in question and oh, look at that, their hands are brushing against one another where they sit atop the table. When it looks like Cordelia’s might drift away, she holds on tighter.

A memory has her stifling a chuckle. “I remember the first time I called you it – thought you were gonna have a heart attack.”

“You realize how highly inappropriate it was?”

“You just said you like it!”

Cordelia grows far more demure, all pink cheeked, eyes that sparkle like the glass of champagne she’s been drinking, yet Misty feels dizzy as though she’s the one that downed the entire beverage. “Well, you grow to like things. . .”

“Is that so?”

“Plus, you’re really persistent,” Cordelia adds, muttered from the corner of her smirk.

Misty gestures to where the two sit across from one another. “It worked, didn’t it?”

There’s a pause as Cordelia bites at her lip; surely with the intent of drawing attention toward them. It works, oh how it works, and Misty as ever experiences the fire inside of her, the ache to have Cordelia closer. Touching, grazing, far more than their fingers do. But her smile falters as Cordelia utters out a soft, “maybe.”

“Maybe?” Misty repeats thickly.

Raising the glass to her lips again, Cordelia chuckles and sips delicately. “Guess we'll have to see how the night goes. . .”

She literally cannot keep her hands off of Cordelia in the cab ride home. If they didn’t have a witness to their intimacies, she would be doing so much more than running her hands the length of Cordelia’s inner thigh.

From the corner of her eye, she sees excited breaths that puffs out the woman’s chest, spots the signs of arousal like astronomers chart the stars so eagerly. “Are we almost there?” Cordelia leans in closer, flush against her, with sweet breath falling upon Misty.

“You gotta be patient.”

The flesh between her blunt nails is squeezed, Cordelia’s reaction studied, and approved of. “You really are a librarian’s nightmare,” she whines, “most specifically, mine.”

She takes the opportunity of their proximity to kiss Cordelia, right along the arch of her high cheek, where her lips linger. “Go on.” She drawls giddily, intoxicated by far more than the alcohol in her system.

Cordelia narrows eyes, challenged, and certainly ready to live up to that. She shifts on the spot, angling her body closer, smooth legs brushing hers. “You are always late,” she starts, not ready to hold back any punches, “you’re messy, you leaves crumbs on the floor around you – you play music too loud, you put books back in the wrong places, everything is always late and you. . .you. . .it drives me crazy that I want to kiss you every time I see you.”

The pause between her words is long, the statements digested over. As it is, Misty can’t exactly be mad. She is all of those things, after all, and the latter is the one she really focuses on.

“Then kiss me.”

“Misty,” she breath out oh so serenely.

Her voice hardens in orders. “Kiss me, darlin’.”

And she does, hard and intent, and until the air is depleted from her very lungs. They only separate to hastily pay the cab driver, the stumble up the steps of Misty's stoop with as much grace as they can muster.

Perhaps the hardest task is getting the key into the lock, what with her suddenly shaking hands and the blur of alcohol over her gaze. Beside her, Cordelia grins and kisses at her neck, “you can do it, sweetie.”

That makes her worse, but soon the door bursts open and the two woman follow in. Jackets are shrugged in any direction, shoes thrown, too. Grabbing at Cordelia, she lures her closer by the waist and enjoys the feel of her hips pressing into her. Their foreheads also connect, dropping slowly into contact, and she basks in the heat of the woman.

“Um,” Cordelia says, all too giddily, “so which way is the bedroom?”

Holy fuck.

She suddenly goes all nervous and clammy, and maybe she’s having this weird outer body experience ‘cause there is a good kinda numbness that snatches at her legs. Still, she got to shake it off, and most certainly lead Cordelia to her bedroom.

Here, she scrambles clear the sheets of her make up and clothes that weren’t good enough to be picked for the date. Even a book follows suit, thrown carelessly to the floor, covered by items and pages all but trampled.

From where she’s suddenly falling against the mattress, Cordelia jolts up and gapes, wide eyed. “Is that a library book?!”

“Hush.”

The woman is trying to reach for it before Misty pins her to that very creaking mattress. That certainly gets her attention, where she grows silent, raking eyes over Misty as she leans over and grins wickedly. With Cordelia observing through hooded eyes, she eagerly straddles the woman, relishing as she feels a thigh grazing the edge of her panties.

Cordelia’s mouth forms into a tight decisive line. “Oh, no.”

“No?” Misty frowns, completely thrown. Filled with panic, and wondering if she’s been reading this situation all too wrong.

Thankfully, answers are soon supplied. “I am not having you spending the night teasing me, Misty Day.” Cordelia insists, already wiggling beneath them and maneuvering an unresisting Misty.

“But. . .”

Lips attack her neck, worship her collar bone, and dance under the vibrations of her voice. “I wanna be on top,” Misty whines.

“Not tonight.”

She makes a noise, close to a squeak, and stares into Cordelia’s eyes. Here she is, transported back into their first real moment of the library; Cordelia taking charge in a way that she hadn’t expected but certainly will not complain about Especially as the woman is a welcome weight on top, knelt on toned thighs, and holding Misty stuck on the bed.

Sucking in a breath, she reaches out hands, clutches to her waist through the wrinkled material of her dress. As pretty as that material is, it offers a physical barrier that she’s rather keen on removing. So she pouts and tugs, and hopes Cordelia gets the message sans the use of words.

Cordelia chuckles at her, loose hair falling down around her face.

“Please, darlin’.”

“Hm, didn’t think I’d have you begging already.” This has Misty spluttering on her own words, much to the other woman’s amusement. “Where's all your confidence now?”

She kisses that smirk right off of her lips, clutching at the collar of her dress. “It ain’t gone anywhere.” Misty says, holding that supple body above hers, “but I would very much like it if you weren’t wearing any clothes right now.”

To her relief, Cordelia complies and pulls off her dress in a tantalizingly slow strip tease that has Misty practically drooling.

She holds onto her waist, keeps her steady and close. That skin is so soft, silk like, and Misty rubs her thumb in circles. “You are so beautiful, Cordelia.” No teasing, no extradites, just the plain truth. This woman is pure grace, a regal beauty that can often be described in the books she so reveres. Misty suddenly grins, “you know, sleepin’ with the school librarian was always a fantasy of mine.”

She earns a great eye roll. “Why are you making this weird?”

“I’m not, I’m not.” She reaches for a hand and kisses across the knuckles as way of an apology. “Just cool, huh? Maybe I got a thing for librarians.”

“Or maybe you are a shameless flirt who will try it on with any semi attractive woman she sees?”

Misty puckers her lips in annoyance. “Ain’t true. Least, the any woman bit.” She grins sheepishly, “can’t deny the flirting, can I?”

But the more the conversation grows, the more she can feel her body crying out that the words cease, for action to take place. And Cordelia must feel the same as she’s suddenly offering the strong push of lips to any part of Misty body that she can find.

The buttons of her own dress are ripped apart, exposing her bare chest, pebbled nipples. Both of which Cordelia adores with this determined set of hot mouthed kisses. Misty arches into her mouth, seeking that touch like a boat seeks harbor. It both satiates and frustrates her, brings a swirl of heat between her legs, and it worsens as Cordelia sucks at that velvet skin.

Her hands wander, too seeking a purpose. Feeling blindly, she soon holds onto Cordelia’s buttocks, inching the woman higher and higher on her. Beneath, the bed squeaks, the room brims with a heady heat on top of the already humid Louisiana air.

Cordelia succeeds in ridding them both of the rest of their clothes, an efficiency there has Misty doing a double take. Not that she really should complain about the fact that they’re both naked – hot, writhing, feelings so deep that she dare not admit them out loud (or even to herself).

But how, oh how, is she supposed to entertain a coherent thought when Cordelia slowly relinquishes her hold of Misty’s pert breath and migrates lips toward her ear.

In this husky drawl, she smirks. “I wanna ride your face.”

Misty’s core clenches, her stomach somersaults, and she nods all too keenly.

Turns out, Cordelia can really whip out the dominance when she wants to, ‘cause not a single part of Misty could deny her that. Even then, she’s sure Cordelia could convince her.

The woman draws back, settled on knees and gazing down at Misty in all her beauty. She has her lower lip held firmly between teeth, eyes so dark and predatory that Misty wonders if she ought to scurry to the safety of a nearby burrow.

But she certainly doesn’t want to evade Cordelia. Fuck, she wants to be caught time amd time again, and she’s all too happy to live the life of prey.

She watches silently as Cordelia makes to position herself nearer, as her open center is suddenly on view. Wet and swollen, a delicate pink that she stares at. Upon the smell of arousal, noise does sneak out in the form of a groan, a sigh. Her own body reacts in kind, and she very much considers abandoning this whole idea so she can pin Cordelia and ride her thigh into her own sense of euphoric relief.

Ladies first, and all that, though.

Soon, Cordelia is hovering right above her, the muscles in her legs wonderfully tensed. Misty holds a hand either side to help her balance, while the older blonde clutches onto the headboard. Here, she smirks, “let’s hope you’re better at this than returning books.”

Before Misty can even gain a response, Cordelia is sinking down onto her.

Both make noises of happiness. Cordelia settles her weight until it’s just right, jerking every time a particularly sensitive part of her is touched.

Misty waits until she’s ready, patience summoned from God knows where. Then, finally, she gets to taste Cordelia. Her tongue flicks up, already coated in the woman’s wetness before she really even starts. But it doesn’t take her long to be kicked into action, for her tongue to form circles and trail around her clit. Adding pressure, stealing it back, and then teasing in the only way she can.

Above, Cordelia moans and drops her head backwards. There’s a small sheen of sweat on her neck, a heat that her body exudes. All Misty cares about is her sweet and musky taste that excites her taste buds. She kisses at her swollen labia, pushes them further open as best she can in her position. It isn’t just her mouth that is coated in the wetness, but her cheeks, just below her nose. For a moment, she can’t breathe, but hey if this is how she dies then so be it.

She uses her hands to spread apart Cordelia’s thighs more, her tough eager and forceful, and totally worth it when she hears the hiss from Cordelia as her tongue dips inside of the woman.

“Misty,” she whines.

She’d reply, but as it is she’s got a mouthful, so she continues to lap at her with her eager tongue, moving between her entrance and the clit that throbs for attention is a dizzying set of movements.

What she should be ready for is when Cordelia begins to move in earnest, seeking out the most pleasure. Her hips rolls, her thighs quake, and her noises ought to be recorded and made immortal. Misty has to regroup herself, to focus on the task at hand, which is harder with every passing second as Cordelia writhes above her. The position shifts, her mouth adjusting every single time, taking in that wetness with zeal. Her own hips rise with the need for pressure, where she has to squeeze her thighs together or face that fear that her own desire could set her alight. Eyes squeeze close at that deliriously tight feeling within, stealing some of her attention.

Cordelia must notice that slowing, as her own soon follows. “What’s wrong?”

She has to literally drag herself from under the woman to answer; a breathless mess with ragged hair and a burning between her legs. “Nothin’.”

“Misty.”

Reaching for her again, she shakes her head, “no, it’s fine, let’s keep goin’.”

But Cordelia isn’t convinced, far from it, and glancing around brings her to the sight of Misty very unsuccessfully trying to dampen her own needs for the moment.

A tut follows, a knowing smile, and then she’s suddenly kneeling higher on wobbly legs. Misty pulls a face at the sudden cold, wincing. “What are you – oh.”

Cordelia isn’t gone for long; in fact, just to merely turn around on the spot and ready to drop right back down. Only this time, leaning further down onto her elbows and across the expanse of Misty’s body until she heavily breathes right over her center. “That better?” she throws a look over her shoulder.

So much better. Enough to have Misty’s heart thumping excitedly, and soon it races at another prospect, as a mouth sinks down to her own core. She wants to bask in the feeling, lose herself in the drawn out sensations, the dancing nerves, the way her body feels made for just this moment.

As it is, she has her own job to do. And is reminded of that as Cordelia practically wiggles her own butt in her face. Grinning, Misty grabs her tightly and resumes her own work with all the concentration she can muster. This feels so right, so wonderful; this weight on top of her that she's never appreciated before, groans and mewls released between Cordelia’s mouth and her own sensitive core.

It’s so good, it’s everything, and she rather happily climbs higher and higher into a state of bliss. The sheets becomes more wrinkled around them, the world filled with stifled groans, and skin grazed by blunt fingernails.

Cordelia is the first to go, held in position as Misty’s tongue works her through the orgasm even when she can feel her own so rapidly approaching.

And it does, hitting her like a train. She lifts her hips, pushing them up at Cordelia who kisses her so lovingly and rubs at her clit with her free hand. The strength of it lasts for what seems like an eternity, pulses of wonder pushing through her entire body until it slumps into this happy little pile of limbs.

She pants in her position, lifting her forearm to wipe at her messy face. “Well, shit.” She drawls into the muggy bedroom. “That was damn good.”

Cordelia giggles as she rights herself so she can curl up against again. Hard nipples poke into the Cajun from the side, hitting her ribcage. “Hm,” she smiles and kisses at Misty’s cheek. “Who knew that tongue was good for something other than teasing me?”

“Aw, you love it, darlin’.”

She might not say anything to it, but her eyes confess it all. And Misty stares into them for the longest of time.

Dating a librarian, she decides, is totally hot. She loves seeing her adorable little Cordelia with glasses perched on her nose as she gushes over a new book.

True to form, she spends more time in the library for that particular woman than for any studying really. And they totally checked, there aren’t any rules against this. Besides, Misty is only a couple of years younger than her, not weird at all.

And what would she do without Cordelia’s soft, yet disapproving sigh every time she makes to return something.

“What about the other book?”

Misty blinks innocently. “What other book, darlin’?”

She now gets an upgrade of Cordelia shaking her head, then turning the screen around to point clearly at it. “This one. It was due yesterday.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yes – that.”

Misty shrugs, unable to keep a mischievous grin from forking.

“Well,” Cordelia senses the mirth in the situation, “where is it?”

“In my bedroom.”

“. . .”

“Why don’t you come get it back yourself?” Misty winks.

“You are impossible!”